


you bless me with the best gift

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Victoria (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: (i've ever known)Victoria, Albert, and their first child of many. 'It is a sight he never thought would ever come to fruition, a dream that sustained him in Coburg when they were separated, in England when he was unsure of his future.'





	

It has been five minutes since he first heard his child wail, and Albert is yet to look upon the babe. He knows it has been five minutes because he has been diligently counting each and every second, pacing up and down outside Victoria’s chambers. He still doesn’t comprehend why he had been sent away in the first place, when he has been by Victoria’s side for almost every moment since she first complained of agonising pains over twelve hours ago. He knows Victoria far more intimately than any of the people gathered inside her chambers could ever hope to, knows every part of her and loves them all, and so Albert does not understand why it has been five minutes and he is yet to be granted entry into his wife’s chambers, why he is yet to learn whether the child is healthy, whether Victoria is safe.

In this moment he does not care for decorum, for tradition…all he wants is to look upon his wife’s face and know she is safe. He wants to know that the child is healthy, for it is the first child of their union and the last nine months have passed so very slowly. Truly, whilst he had been overjoyed when Victoria confided in him that she was with child, he’d known Victoria wished they could have had more time together, just the two of them, despite the obligation for her to provide an heir. In part he shared Victoria’s desire, for no matter how happy it made him to see her stomach swell with a child that would solidify not only their marriage but his position, the beginnings of a family that would be happier than their respective own, Albert had come to find that the best part of his day was when he could lie beside his wife in their bed, could share with her his concerns and hopes or simply just hold her whilst she slept, his wife, the queen, a twenty year old woman with so much responsibility resting on her shoulders. 

Six minutes now, and he is still pacing the hallway. He can hear the child fussing, can hear quiet conversation, but he is still barred from entering. His inability to do anything, to order that the doors be opened, irritates him immensely, his lack of status despite the ring that adorns Victoria’s hand chafing him more in this moment than it has in months.

In the end, Albert’s desire to forgo decorum and enter his wife’s chambers is thwarted by Victoria herself. At exactly six minutes and a half since their child entered the world his wife speaks, presumably to Lehzen. “Oh, do tell them to let my angel in, would you,” he hears Victoria say, her voice as strong and determined as it usually is, despite the fact he knows she must be exhausted. “He’ll be worrying himself something dreadful, and I would like him to look upon our child.”

He nearly pushes aside the lady-in-waiting who opens the door in his haste to reach Victoria’s side, uncaring that his hair is most certainly ruined from constantly running his hands through it in worry, his countenance pale. Victoria had sent him away in the middle of the night, ordering him to rest, but alone in their bed he’d been unable to sleep and he knows that his exhaustion reflects on his face. His wife however, despite spending the last twelve hours in constant pain, looks as lovely as ever, her cheeks red from exertion but her eyes sparkling. She raises a hand to caress his cheek, Albert tenderly kissing the ends of her fingers.

“We’ve a daughter, Albert,” she tells him, interlacing their hands together and gesturing with the other. He straightens himself beside her, before a maid deposits a quiet bundle into Victoria’s arms. “But the next will be a prince, my angel. I promise.”

They lay in silence, Victoria nestled safely in his arms and their daughter in her own. It is a sight he never thought would ever come to fruition, a dream that sustained him in Coburg when they were separated, in England when he was unsure of his future. Now it is no longer a dream, but marvellous nonetheless. “She has your nose, I think,” Victoria muses, looking at him. “And your curls.” She peers up at him, studying him as if to determine exact which of his features their daughter has inherited.

Albert however, is entirely enthralled by the child in her arms. He knows newborn children are never truly beautiful, and their daughter is not an exception to that rule, red and wrinkly and not at all a sight to behold, but somehow he finds himself overwhelmed by the sight of her, barely registering his wife’s words. Her gender disappoints him only a little, for when they have produced a child so perfect as the one in Victoria’s arms, how could he dare complain? He knows that sons will come, plenty of them if he has any say whatsoever in the matter, and so for now all that concerns him is the daughter his wife, his darling Victoria, has just struggled to birth, and the woman in question herself, the most gracious woman he has ever known.

“Victoria,” he begins, swallowing thickly. He is aware of the tears pooling in his eyes, but he merely blinks them away, pressing his lips to his wife’s temple instead. Victoria smiles up at him, slightly unsteady as she holds their daughter. Albert moves to take some of the weight out of his wife’s arms, their daughter squirming as she is shifted from one parent to another. “You have done marvellously, wife.”

Victoria beams at his praise, stretching a hand out to tenderly trace their daughter’s jaw, the baby already fast asleep. “We shall have to decide upon a name. I know you liked Alfred for a boy, but. That won’t do now, will it?”

“Victoria,” he says firmly, ignoring the furrow of his wife’s brow that appears at his words. He clarifies, “I would like to call her Victoria.”

“Albert, we can’t!” Victoria laughs, the sound still as lovely as the first time he ever heard it. “The whole country, they would all think me vain, calling our daughter after myself. Not to mention what the ambassadors would say.”

Albert merely shrugs. “Let them talk. Who cares what they think?” he retorts, eyebrow quirked in questioning. “And you have every right to be vain, liebes. You have given me the greatest gift I could ever wish for, and they do not know how lucky they all are to have you as their queen. We _will_ name our daughter after her mother, and they shall simply have to accept it.”

A moment passes, before Victoria inhales and nods slightly. “Victoria Adelaide,” she concedes. “For my dearest aunt. And Albert, I hope you are aware that if we’re to name our firstborn daughter after myself, then I’ll accept nothing less than naming our firstborn son after you. Alfred shall simply have to wait.”

Albert laughs, a small huff of amusement that Victoria has come to adore. “If you must, meine liebe. I wouldn’t dare refuse the queen, after all.”

“Good. Well, it seems as if we are in agreeance then.”

“Princess Victoria,” Albert says softly. “Oh, how loved she will be.”

“Vicky,” his wife corrects, her nightgown slipping off of one shoulder, a sight that makes Albert’s mouth dry. It will be weeks before they can be intimate once more, and he truly does not know how he shall manage such a challenge, not when Victoria has been his wife in every sense almost all the nights of their marriage. “I think we should better call her Vicky, for I would like to be the only one you call Victoria.”

He traces a thumb gently over her exposed shoulder. “You shall always be my Victoria,” he assures her, her skin tantalisingly soft under his touch. He longs to undress her and take her to bed properly, show her just how much he adores her, but Albert settles for pressing a soft kiss to her waiting lips, their daughter asleep between them and sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“And you, my angel, shall forever be _my_ Albert.” 


End file.
